Nightwing Begins
by mnbryant
Summary: Richard Grayson had a falling-out with his adoptive father, billionaire Bruce Wayne, and moved away to clear his head. The Batman appears without a partner for the first time in years. Rumors spread about what happened to his sidekick. Richard begins to rebuild his life, but old friends refuse to let him go for good. Meanwhile, a new vigilante appears on the streets of Ruby City.
1. Chapter 1

"Home, sweet home…"

The raven-haired 19 year-old stood in the threshold of his new apartment. It was small, but he didn't have a job yet, so he preferred to burn through his savings as slowly as possible. Just inside was the living room, just large enough for the ratty though otherwise clean couch against one wall facing a plain black table, presumably for a TV to sit on. Just behind the table was a wall separating the living room from a kitchen with enough floor space for two people to stand without bumping into each other. Down the hallway he could see two doors, presumably the bathroom and bedroom.

Richard exhaled softly. Here, now, was the beginning of his new life. Here, nobody knew him, though they probably knew his adoptive father, the reason he'd moved out here in the first place.

Well, no point in dwelling on these things. Not when you had a friend with more of your baggage coming up the stairs any second. He stepped inside, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a suitcase rolling along the carpet behind him. He paused a moment in the hallway to peer inside the bathroom; the shower would need a curtain, but everything looked to be in decent condition and fairly clean. The bedroom was about the same: plain, with little furniture. A basic bedframe with a boxspring and mattress. An end table to the right of the bed. A closet on the wall across from the bed.

"A little different than the other places you've lived, huh Grayson?" a redheaded young man said, himself about the same age as Richard.

"I'll live," Richard said tightly. He didn't realize he'd been clenching his jaw until he realized just who he sounded like. "Thanks, Wally," he amended, turning to face his friend, an amiable enough smile on his face as he reached for the bags he had.

Wally knew something was eating at Richard. "I'm going to get the last bag," he said. "Be back in a flash." Richard could only see a blur move down the hallway and out the door, all in less than a second.

Richard lifted his bags onto the bare mattress and began unpacking. Clothes filled three of the five total bags, clothes which he refolded and stacked along the wall until he could get a small dresser and some hangers to put them away properly. He had almost finished the first bag when a light wind lifted at his hair and a hand gripped his shoulder.

"Promise me you won't hide from the rest of us," Wally said softly. "I know you feel like you need some time to yourself. That doesn't mean you're alone."

"I know," Richard replied, coughing to try to clear the lump forming in his throat.

"Also, Artemis told me to tell you that, if no one hears anything from you for too long, she's going to bring everyone to come see you."

He smiled as he turned to face Wally. "Tell her that I appreciate it," he replied. His mind, however, was not thinking of the kindness of the gesture, nor of the friendship he had with these people, but considered instead the tactical advantage if anything happened to him and he went missing for a while. The smile faded.

"Speaking of Artemis, how are things between you two?" he asked, changing the topic.

Wally stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. "Good. Really good, actually. My mood goes up whenever we spend time together, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Barbara. The wound was too fresh for him to be able to say goodbye before he'd left. _I hope she can forgive me._

Silence filled the room as Richard stared at the wall. Had he made the right decision in escaping everything? In leaving everyone behind? The whole team had felt the effects of his falling-out with Bruce, so nobody had questioned his need to get away. Not except Alfred, of course. How many of the others thought he was making a mistake? On second thought, he didn't want to know.

A tap on the shoulder. Wally's face seemed to appear in Richard's vision, though he knew he just hadn't been paying attention. "Dude. You gonna be alright? I can crash here a few days until you get settled in. Artemis would understand."

"I'll be fine," Richard reassured him. "I wouldn't want you to get bored while I was out signing my life away."

Wally chuckled. "Are you kidding? I'd be off exploring your new campus while you got to deal with the paperwork."

Another silence. "Go home, Wally," Richard said kindly. "You've got family waiting for you."

"You do too, Grayson. Don't forget about us."

Richard looked up at Wally and their eyes locked. An unspoken agreement passed between them and Wally zoomed out the door, leaving Richard alone to fold his underwear in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days went by in a daze for Richard. He visited the Ruby City University and finalized his enrollment, went to the grocery store and bought some food for the next few weeks, started a job search (too bad he couldn't put "vigilante" in his list of past positions), and otherwise began to set up the closest thing to a normal life he'd ever had. It was difficult; he'd grown up as Bruce Wayne's ward and with all of the benefits that came with that. Never did he want for money, never had he had to hold an actual job, food appeared in the fridge like clockwork… he had to admit, there was something oddly _freeing_ about having to provide completely for himself.

Monday morning came and with it came his first day of classes at RCU. His apartment was about a fifteen minute walk away from the campus - found that one out when he signed up for classes - though he left half an hour before classes started in case something delayed him. As he walked, he observed the city around him. No dark deals happening in broad daylight, no flying arsonists or ice-themed villains, no mad clowns threatening to blow up the city… Already it seemed a great improvement over Gotham, even after Batman and Robin had cleaned up the streets.

Richard scowled at the thought of the Batman, then took a deep breath and exhaled. No. He wasn't going to think about that right now.

It didn't take long to arrive on campus or to fall in with the other students who were all on their way to class. His detective training enabled him to notice the sheer number of students walking around with earbuds in or headphones on and the comparatively few students chatting amiably with friends as they walked. A student and professor walked by, talking about the migration patterns of deer. Three guys ran by, their friend - bent on revenge - running after them; Richard stepped out of the way and let them pass.

Walking through the door of the classroom, he looked up at the clock. Seven minutes until class started, two other people sitting in desks on opposite ends of the room: one in the front row by the door, the other in the back by the far wall. Richard walked over to a desk somewhere in the middle, one row behind the front. With one fluid motion, he shrugged the backpack from his shoulder and let his arm guide it down to the floor next to the desk, then sat down. Students filtered in over the next minutes; one speed-walked in so she wasn't coming in _after_ the professor, who looked rather amused at that as he entered the room.

"Welcome to Writing 1100. I'm Professor Lavery and you…" The sandy-haired thirty-something paused to look around the room. "You all look bored."

He slapped his hand against the front desk - a student in the back jolted up with a sleepy grunt - and smiled like he had the most terrific idea. "Everyone stand up. No, really. Stand up."

Everyone got out of their desks at their own pace. One excitable young woman seemed ready for just about anything, while a guy on the other side of Richard reflected the majority with his confused frown. Richard knew it would be some sort of "get to know you" game, if his semester of experience at Gotham's Hudson University was anything to go by; he could only hope that it wasn't _too_ inane.

"Now push the desks to the center of the room."

A few students began to honor his request, though most gave him a weird look, to which he responded by waving his hands expectantly. They caught on. Squeals filled the air as the desks slid across the tiled floor - "Lift and carry! Don't slide!" Lavery admonished them - and the desks ended up pressed together in the center of the room, leaving space by the walls for people to stand. Lavery walked to the group of desks and, to the students' surprise, climbed on top and looked down at them all.

"I'm sure you all have done something like this before," he said, turning his head to look at the students on each wall. "I'm going to ask some multiple choice questions. Whatever you feel most strongly about, go to that wall. No standing around in the middle" - he wagged his finger at them - "if you do, you'd better have a darn good reason, because I'll be certain to ask you about it. Ready?"

The students murmured their assent, though Richard stayed quiet and studied Lavery. Was he trying to be different for the sake of being different? Was he doing this primarily to the engage the students or to get to know them?

"First question: where are you from?" Lavery pointed at each wall, starting at the back wall, going clockwise. "Western U.S., eastern U.S., central U.S., and outside the U.S. Go."

Students shuffled across the room, one young man apologizing under his breath to another whom he'd accidentally knocked into a desk. Richard stepped toward the wall with windows letting in sunlight muted by clouds: eastern U.S.

Lavery faced the students from the western U.S. "How many of you are from Ruby City?" he asked. Eleven raised their hands. "Quite a few locals. How many others from elsewhere in Washington?" Five more. "Oregon?" Three. "California?" Also three.

Richard allowed his mind to process the dialogue in the background as he observed the others in his class, analyzing their posture and facial expressions to try to get a sense of what kind of person they were. An elbow to the ribs caused him to look back up at Lavery, who was looking at him expectantly. "I'm sorry, I must have zoned out," he apologized.

"Don't worry about it; but try not to let it happen again, hmm?" He smiled, though a glint in his eyes told Richard that he was being serious. "I asked where you were from."

"Gotham," Richard responded. His jaw tensed slightly as the emotional baggage of that city came back to mind.

"Gotham City, home of the Batman. I hear crime rates have dropped since he started his work all those years ago." Lavery chuckled. "I remember the days before all of these super-people. Life was different back then…" He clapped his hands together. "Well! Moving on…"

He continued around the room, asking each of the five foreign students where they were from and how they found themselves at RCU. Then on to the next question. And the next: Category of major (STEM, Business, Education, the Arts, and other); favorite meal (breakfast, lunch, or dinner - no dessert); books vs. movies (movies won); lyrics vs. melody as the more important element in a song (melody); video, board, card, or other kinds of games (a few people were upset that "tabletop" wasn't an option, since they played Dungeons and Dragons); and so on…

The questions ended with two minutes left of class so the students could put the desks back where they were before and grab their bags before leaving. Lavery went to his desk, looked at Richard, down at a piece of paper, another glance at Richard, and back at the paper. The clock hit 9:50 and students shuffled towards the door. Richard went with, but the professor's voice carried over the crowd towards him: "Mr, eh, Grayson?"

Richard shouldered his way against the current of people to approach the desk. "Did you need something?"

"I was curious." Lavery set the paper down; Richard could see that it was a list of students with their ID photo. "You said you were from Gotham, yes? Does the name 'The Flying Graysons' mean anything to you?"

"Yes…" he said softly. So _that's_ what he wanted to know. "They were my parents." He readjusted his backpack as a subtle hint that he really didn't want to be talking about this and wanted to leave.

"I had my suspicions," Lavery admitted. "I'm sorry about what happened to them. We used to take our son to Haly's Circus when it came to town. My wife loved to watch them… Well. I suppose you don't want to talk about that. I did want to ask, I remember reading that you were adopted by Bruce Wayne. Is that something you'd like me to avoid mentioning in class?"

Richard nodded. He'd come here to get out from under Wayne's shadow, after all.

"I understand. You want to be a normal student, not some celebrity." Lavery packed up the few things he had taken out back into his bag. "I'm sure I would be the same were I in your shoes." He gestured for Richard to lead the way out the door, then shut the door behind them both. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

"See you Wednesday," Richard echoed as the professor walked away. He stood there a moment, watching him leave, then turned and walked down an adjacent hallway.

His other classes weren't any more exciting than the first. The introductory activities honestly bored him and, while he participated, he spent more time observing his classmates than he did paying close attention. No one else asked him about the Flying Graysons or being Bruce Wayne's ward; did they not know, or just not care? Not that it mattered much - the end result was the same either way.

* * *

Richard fell backwards onto his bed and groaned. "Well, there's day one out of the way," he announced to the ceiling, then closed his eyes. Now was when he would be planning a mission with the team, or with Batman. But no, he'd left that behind in Gotham with his Robin uniform.

Well, _most_ of his Robin uniform…

He turned his head and glanced at the bedside stand. In the drawer was a small bottle of spirit gum, some remover, and his Robin mask. Just in case he _needed_ it. He didn't move as he contemplated putting the mask on.

 _There's no crimes you're going to stop. You just want to explore._

 _There's always a crime happening_ somewhere, _besides, there's nothing wrong with exploring._

 _Someone could recognize you. You don't have a suit._

 _I'll wear something different, that people won't recognize._

 _And if you come across a crime in progress -_

 _Doubtful. The police seem to have things under control here._

 _\- you'll step in to intervene. You don't have armor, gear, anything._

 _Fine. You win._

 _…. You're going anyways._

 _Yes. I am._

Richard drew his legs up and kicked out, using his hands to spring off the bed and to his feet. He was drawn to the drawer, but first he had to change his clothes: dark jeans that were just loose enough to allow him a full range of movement and a black hoodie. _Then_ he could open the drawer, pull out the spirit gum, and apply it to both his face and the mask. In the early days he'd needed to trace where the boundaries of the mask were so he would put the gum in the right place; now it was second nature to apply it to the right spots. A moment passed as the gum set and became sticky enough to bond to itself, during which he thought through how he was going to leave the apartment without drawing attention. The window faced away from the street - it was a one story drop, nothing difficult - so out the window it was.

The mask came on, and so did freedom. Freedom to explore, freedom to be someone other than Richard Grayson, last of the Flying Graysons, adopted son of a billionaire, who dropped out of college after a single semester. With the mask came anonymity, the ability to be who he knew he _could_ be, not the he that society determined he _should_ be.

He climbed out of the window and pushed off the wall, landing precariously on the wooden fence a short distance away. A quote came suddenly to mind:

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth. - Oscar Wilde

 _Give him a mask, and he'll become his true self,_ Richard amended in his mind. _Give him a mask, and he becomes free._


	3. Chapter 3

Give him a mask, and he'll become his true self. Give him a mask, and he becomes free.

Richard silently dropped down from the fence. The flickering light from a streetlamp illuminated the back of the corner mart just enough for him to see the overfull dumpster and the neighboring pile of empty boxes. A puff of smoke off to the right told him that one of the workers was taking a cigarette break. That was fine with Richard - he was heading the other way, towards downtown.

He turned and pulled the hood over his head, letting out a slow breath. He started walking, then sped up into a jog that took him down 5th Street East, left onto Delaware Avenue, and into the center of downtown Ruby City. Empty suburban roads gave way to five lane streets still crawling with life. Richard kept his hood up and head down - no need to rouse suspicion for walking the streets in a mask - ears peeled for a hint of danger, eyes looking for, well, something exciting. A burglary, maybe. A bank robbery would be exciting, but too dangerous without his gear.

Richard kept walking. A hand clasped his shoulder, forcing him to stop. He resisted the instinct to bring his hands up in preparation for a fight - good thing too: it was a policeman who had stopped him.

"Where are you off to, son?" The man looked to be nearing middleaged, though some of those creases could have been through the stress of his career, _especially_ with the advent of superheroes and villains. His brow was furrowed in tired concern. Richard was not surprised; he'd come across a number of people with no training trying to be Batman, Robin, Green or Red Arrow, or any other of their favorite heroes. He blinked - the man reminded him of the Jack Haly from his childhood.

"My friend's place," Richard answered. "It's her birthday and I don't have the money for a bus ticket so… I'm walking."

"And the mask?"

"It's a costume party. Hero themed. I'm borrowing the suit from a friend but accidentally left the rest of the suit in his car when he dropped me off at home. I had the mask on, which is the only reason why I have it now…" He smiled sheepishly and reached up inside his hood to scratch his head. "He's going to be late to the party, so I'm heading there now and I'll put the rest of the costume on –"

"Alright, alright," the officer said, smiling a little despite himself. He remembered what it was like to be young, going to parties and having fun with friends. "Stay safe. Those men and women with capes… They're in their own league above us. Don't go trying to be like them."

"I won't," Richard promised. He started to walk away, then turned back to the officer as he was walking back to his squad car. "Officer?" He hesitated a moment as the officer turned back around. "Thanks for caring."

The officer nodded and tipped his cap, then turned back and continued to his car. Richard was certain he stood a little straighter, looked a little less tired and more… encouraged. _I guess people don't appreciate the police here any more than they do in Gotham,_ he thought as he continued walking to the end of the block. He turned the corner, exiting the officer's line of sight.

On and on he walked, coming across nothing but his own growing doubts. _What am I_ doing _out here?_ he asked himself. _I was so eager to prove myself to - who? Batman? Prove that I don't need him? That I'm more than a sidekick? More than Robin?_ He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. _Sounds more like I'm trying to prove it to myself…_ He opened them again, looking around. _Does this city even need a hero? There's been nothing since I moved here…_ Hands in his pockets, Richard kept walking, though now he was heading back to his apartment. He needed to figure out what he wanted - a chance to reinvent himself as a different hero, or as someone who wasn't a hero? As he contemplated this decision, he kept mindlessly putting one foot in front of the other to - minutes later - look up and realize he'd never turned down the street to head back home.

 _Stay whelmed, Grayson,_ he reminded himself as he turned around to orient himself toward the apartment. _This isn't a life or death decision. It can wait until you get in bed._

Just across the street, he could see three men wearing baseball caps with the brims pulled low walking towards the side door of the Ruby City Federal Bank. One was holding a limp duffel bag; another's shirt looked pulled up in the back which, Richard saw as he began to cross the street, was because he had stashed a pistol in the waistline of his pants and forgot to pull his shirt down over it. It was a funny sight: the guy was wearing a belt, yet his pants still sagged a bit. As Richard reached the opposite curb, he heard the _beep-beep click_ of a card reader unlocking a door followed by the _click_ of the door being pulled open. He waited for a count of four and ran around the corner, mentally preparing to either be shot at or have to race to prevent the door from shutting.

Time seemed to slow as Richard fell into the "zone" and took in the situation. One startled man, presumably left on guard, scrabbling for the gun he'd tucked in his pants. One door, currently closing. One key card, a corner visible poking out from the man's pocket.

A steady rhythm filled Richard's ears, though whether from his footsteps or his heart pounding in excitement he didn't care; more important was that he reach the man before he could pull the trigger. At two yards out, the man started to bring his arm back around. One yard, the gun was raising toward Richard, who jumped - using the startled man's shoulders to steady himself - just before the gun fired and, twisting himself in the air, landed so he was facing the man's back. He quickly snaked his left arm around the man's neck and grasped his right while his right hand restrained the man's right arm. The guy was able to breathe normally, but Richard's arm was putting pressure on the carotid arteries in his neck, effectively cutting off a majority of the oxygen supply to the brain.

 _And 3… 2… 1…_ The man fell limp in his hands as the gun clattered to the ground. Richard relaxed his arm and kicked it away, wincing as it hit the dumpster with a loud clanging sound that echoed through the silent alley. He had about 30 seconds to figure out how to restrain the guy before he woke up - that was one thing about the movies that always frustrated him: if you choke a guy out and he doesn't get up almost immediately after you let him go, he's either dead or is going to have some serious brain damage. The man had a belt that wasn't being used for its intended purpose, so Richard laid him face up on the ground and quickly undid the buckle, pulling it from the pant loops as he rolled him over. He grabbed the guy's hands and pulled them behind his back so that his wrists crossed, then wrapped the belt around his wrists, threading the strap through the buckle over and over until he couldn't thread it through anymore.

Richard's attention changed to the robber's feet. He had nothing to restrain his ability to walk, except…

The robber groaned as his brain began to receive enough oxygen to permit him to wake. "What… What the hell? Are you tying my shoes together?!" He tried to turn over and sit up but had a hard time, what with a guy sitting on him and all.

"Yes, I am. Though I can never remember if the bunny's ears are supposed to go over or under…" He pulled the knot tight and pulled the access card from the man's pocket. "Maybe I'll go ask your friends how it goes."

He stood and walked up to the side access door, then swiped the card across the keypad. _Beep-beep click._ Richard opened the door and stepped into the bank; his hand remained on the door to slow it down as it clicked shut.

Silence filled the bank–pressed in on Richard as he stood still, ears straining for a hint of a sound. Soft padding echoed down the hallway toward him; someone did not want to be heard. He crept toward the hallway entrance, keeping close to the wall so he wouldn't be seen. Any second… now! Stepping forward, he noted the pistol held with two hands and grabbed the barrel with both of his, rolling it towards the would-be robber and out of his hands until only his index finger was inside the trigger guard. He then tilted the pistol to the side, trapping the man's finger, and bent back until the bone broke. While the man doubled over in pain and instinctively jerked his hands back, Richard brought his knee up and slammed his head into his knee. The man crumpled.

"Larry?" a voice called from the direction the now-unconscious man - presumably Larry - had come from. The third bank robber poked his head out of the vault opening to see a guy in jeans and a hoodie standing over his buddy. The guy looked towards him–that's when he saw the mask. "Oh crap…" he muttered as he pulled his head back in. He had no gun. Larry insisted that he wouldn't need a gun, not when he was carrying all of the money. _Stupid!_

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Swallowing nervously, he turned around.

"When you're tying your shoes, do the bunny's ears go over or under?" Richard asked, leaning against the inside of the vault's doorway with his arms crossed.

"I, uh… Under, I think?" This guy had to be the newbie of the group: stuck with the grunt work, he didn't have a weapon and had already surrendered to Richard by not trying to attack him.

Richard smirked. "Thank you. You're friend by the door and I weren't sure how it went. Say, what's your name?"

"Uh M-M-M-Mo…" Mo's knuckles were turning white from how tightly he was holding the duffel bag.

"Mo? No, don't tell me you guys gave yourselves nicknames! Let me guess: your friend by the door was Curly?"

Mo didn't answer.

Richard sighed. "Well, Mo, you know you're not getting away with the money, right?"

He nodded.

"You seem like a nice guy, Mo. Tell you what: you let me tie your hands and you stay here in this vault until the police arrive, and I won't have to knock you out like I did Larry. Sound like a plan?"

He nodded again and held his arms out in front of himself.

Richard took the duffel bag and unclipped the shoulder strap from both sides. "I appreciate the cooperation, but how about you put your hands _behind_ your back instead?"

Mo complied, allowing Richard to wrap the shoulder strap around his wrists a few times before being led to the door, where a metal handle jutted out, connected to the door on both ends. Richard clipped the ends of the shoulder strap to each other so that Mo was bound to the handle.

"The police will be here soon enough," Richard told him. "In the future, you might want to name yourselves after someone _other_ than the three stooges." Mo just hung his head in shame.

Richard walked back out of the bank, taking the time to wipe down Larry's gun and the security badge so the police wouldn't find his prints on them. Next stop was a pay phone, where he made an anonymous phone call to the police, alerting them to "three guys with guns and a big bag sneaking into the bank." His objective complete, Richard finally went home.

Minutes later, he was back in his apartment, mask back in the bedside drawer. Was it stupid of him to wander the city with a mask on? Yes. Was it stupid to confront armed bank robbers without any of his usual gear? Eh, he'd had worse on some of those times he'd been captured and stripped of his utility belt. Still, he had to admit that that was the most fulfilling thing he'd done since arriving in Ruby City.

 _Do I need to be anything more than Robin?_ He asked himself. _This is what I do. Even if Bruce doesn't want me to use the name "Robin", I can still do my own thing._ He laid back on his bed and closed his eyes.

Kaldur put his hand on Richard's shoulder. "We understand. You need some time to find yourself. Do not forget: you will always be part of this Team, even if you do not wear the costume of Robin." "Thank you, Kaldur," Richard said appreciatively, glancing over at Wally, who had his goggles sitting on his forehead, patiently waiting until Richard was ready to leave. The only other person in the Cave was Zatanna, as M'gann, Superboy, and Artemis, were on a mission scouting out Bane's newest enterprise in Santa Prisca. Kaldur backed away as Zatanna walked up to Richard. The two had been a couple for almost a year two years ago and, though Richard was currently seeing Barbara Gordon now, the two had remained close. Zatanna put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Don't be a stranger," the young magician told him in a soft, yet stern voice. "I won't," He promised, offering a smile. He then turned to Wally and nodded. The two walked to the Zeta tubes that would transport them close to Richard's new apartment in Ruby City. _Recognized: Robin B01, Kid Flash B03_ The Zeta tubes powered to life as the two turned around to wave goodbye to Zatanna and Kaldur.


End file.
